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Parsha Perspectives: One Small Spark (Titzaveh)

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V’Ata Titzaveh es Bnai Yisroel, V’Yikchu Elecha Shemen Zayis Zach Kasis La’Maor L’Haalos Ner Tamid  

You shall command the Children of Israel and have them bring you clear olive oil, [made from olives that were] crushed for lighting, to keep the lamp burning constantly (Exodus 27:20-21).” 

It has to be pure. Not just any oil can be used for the kindling of the Menorah. As Rashi explains, “it must be pure without dregs or sediment … only from the first oil which emerges from the olive.”  The deeper meaning seems obvious – we must strive for purity in our service of God. If we choose to kindle the fire of spirituality within ourselves, we must find the personalistic oil of purity. We must reach into ourselves and find that holiness which remains intact and untarnished, despite our many life mistakes and missteps. We each possess this oil, but like the Chanukah story, this oil of holiness is often buried beneath layers of rubble and impurity – but it’s there. If I can summon the courage to search for it, I can burn bright.

There is a second lesson to be learned from this simple commandment.

Rashi comments: to keep the lamp burning constantly: Heb. לְהַעִלֹת, lit., to cause to rise. [The kohen] shall light it until the flame rises by itself (Shabbos 21a). 

The Kohen must ignite the wick, but all it needs is a spark, and after that, “the flame rises by itself.”  The creation of light does not require a burning torch or blazing fire; it just requires a spark. What is true for the Menorah is true to personal luminescence as well. Each of us is on a quest for holiness. We want to find God, and we want to find our true selves. We seek deeper connections to our people, we yearn to discover our strengths, and we want to know we have made a difference in even some small way. But we often become paralyzed when looking to make the first move toward the actualization of these aforementioned goals. What should I do? What should I take on? So many options and possibilities. How do I know what the right move is? Rashi comes to teach us – all I need is a spark. Just do something. Find something positive to propel your life forward. Find something meaningful to create extra holiness. Choose something you are going to start or improve, or choose one area of immense struggle and create a plan to tackle it. These are the sparks of life, and they can generate so much future light. All you need is one tiny spark to get the fire burning.

Purim is a day of sparks. We ignite a spark of Torah by reading the Megillah. We ignite a spark of compassion and kindness by giving Matanos L’Evyonim (gifts to the poor). We ignite the spark of reconciliation by giving Mishloach Manos (gifts of food to one another). These sparks light the way toward Pesach, the celebration of national and personal freedom from that which enslaves us.

It is a spark which provided light in the Bais HaMikdash, and it is a spark of positive, dynamic activity which can provide light in our lives. May we find the courage to ignite the spark and bask in the raging flame of accomplishment and growth.

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Parsha Perspectives: Put Your Heart Into It (Terumah)

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“The Lord spoke to Moses saying: “Speak to the children of Israel and have them take for Me an offering; from every person whose heart inspires him to generosity, you shall take My offering (Exodus 25:1-2). 

The time had come for the Jewish nation to build a “home” for God. The Mishkan (Tabernacle) was to be the spiritual epicenter of the nation’s existence. It was to be the place of centralized service and would serve to unite the tribes in the service of God. But this Mishkan was not only for us. God’s love for his children was so intense that He yearned to dwell within our midst and be an active part of our daily lives. But like most important life endeavors – a dream is not enough – reality requires money. And so, when it came time to make this dream a reality, the call went out to the Jewish people to donate gold, silver, copper, wool, and an assortment of other precious metals and materials. All were to have a portion in the Mishkan; all were to have a place within the Home of Hashem. From the wording of the verse, it would appear that giving to this holy endeavor was at the discretion of the individual. God told Moshe to collect from “every person whose heart inspires him to generosity.” Collect from every person who possesses this “Nidivus Leyv, generosity of spirit.” The inference is that if a person “feels” generous, they give, and if they do not feel generous, they are exempt. This seems to be a strange dynamic given the fact that mitzvos (commandments) are obligatory and are not left to the discretion of the individual. We have 613 commandments which represent a set of Divine mandates to which we must adhere. Why was donating to the Mishkan left to the discretion of the individual?

Rav Chaim Shmulevitz (1902-1979) explains this dynamic with a beautiful insight. The Talmud (Kesubos 103a) quotes an amazing episode:

“Rabbi Chiya said: I will make sure that Torah is never forgotten from the Jewish people. I will sow flax, harvest it, and make it into nets. I will use the nets to capture deer. I will slaughter the deer, feed the meat to orphans, and write the sections of the Torah on the parchment (skins). I will then go to a place where there are no teachers of Torah, and I will assemble a group of children and teach each of them a section of Torah. I will then ask each of them to teach the material to one another.” 

Why did Rabbi Chiya have to go through the trouble of making the nets and capturing the deer? Why not just purchase the parchment and write the Torah on it? Or better yet, purchase already written scrolls? Rabbi Chiya understood a very important and fundamental principle. To be successful in any spiritual life endeavor, we must do it “lishmah, with true and worthy purpose and intention.” Rabbi Chiya knew that in order to impart Torah to the next generation, every step of the spiritual, educational process would have to be pure and holy. From beginning to end, it would have to be done for the right reasons. Any ego or self-serving motivations would erode the spiritual foundation. In order to ensure that the transmission of Torah to the next generation would be pristine and pure, Rabbi Chiya made sure that each and every part of the process was infused with holiness and meaning.

Nidivus Leyv does not simply refer to someone who is generous; it refers to someone who does the right thing for the right reasons – someone who lives his life lishmah. Hashem was saying to Moshe, “I want everyone to give, but I want them to understand that the success of this project is rooted in their ability to infuse holiness into every step of this process. To give without soul, to give without feeling does not advance our collective goal. I trust that each and every person will ultimately come around and want to be part of this holy initiative, but don’t force them to give if they are not yet ready.”   

God is teaching us a profound life lesson. We often assume the success of any life endeavor is rooted in the performance of a series of mechanistic details. If we execute the details correctly, we will reach our desired result.  True success in life requires heart, feeling, and soul. There are times when we do not reach our intended finish line. There are times when we fall short of our goals. At times, this is the result of unexpected circumstances. Yet often this occurs because we were not emotionally and spiritually vested in the undertaking. At times, the body can be engaged, and yet the soul and the mind are elsewhere. To be truly successful in life, a person must commit to the “task” with not only his hands and feet – but with his heart and his soul. Nidivus Leyv, generosity of spirit, is not only a way to give; it is a way to live.

Let us find the strength to give generously of our heart, soul, and mind to all we do, and may Hashem bless our efforts with success.

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Parsha Perspectives: Rejuvenation and Rehabilitation (Mishpatim)

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(Reprinted from 5778)

And these are the ordinances that you shall set before them. Should you buy a Hebrew slave, he shall work [for] six years, and in the seventh [year], he shall go out to freedom without charge (Exodus 21:1-2)

It is in this week’s Parsha, Mishpatim that God provides the legal foundation upon which to build a moral and ethical society. We are taught how to deal with damages, poverty and finances. We are given the necessary instruction to cultivate a meaningful relationship between man and his fellow. Yet, God teaches us about the Eved Ivri, the Jewish servant, first. Why is this the first mitzvah in this section? What is the message contained in this law which sets the tone for that follows?

Rashi explains, there are two ways in which a Jew becomes a servant.  If he steals and isn’t able to pay back, the Beis Din (Jewish court) can sell the thief and use the proceeds to repay the victim. Or, mipnei dochko, if he is destitute. If a person has no money, no means of financial support, he can choose to sell himself into servitude.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe focuses on the Jew who has stolen and sold into servitude. The Rebbe builds on this concept and explains: the act of theft represents a moral failure. It is a trespass against a fellow human being. To take something from someone else, to deprive someone of something they have worked for, is a blatant disregard for the dignity of the other. But theft is not only a crime against man, it is also a crime against God. Each person is given a celestially ordained amount of material wealth. We are given what we need in order to accomplish our individual sacred mission in this world. When a person steals, he is making a dramatic statement, “God hasn’t given me enough. I will take that which belongs to the other, thereby enriching myself.” The act of theft violates the will of God, not only because theft is biblically forbidden, but because it is an indictment of God for having given something to someone else instead of oneself. Furthermore, the thief feels that he will retain that which he has stolen, even though this act was against the will of God. As such, the thief has transgressed against God and his fellow man. What should we do with this individual? Logic would dictate that we cast him aside, make a pariah of him and remove him from society. Yet, we do just the opposite. We give him a job and a place to live. His lifestyle must mirror his master’s. Whatever the master provides for his own family, he must provide for the servant. We say to this thief, “We will not give up on you. You have made some mistakes, but we still believe you can turn it around. It’s not too late. Use this time to rebuild and rehabilitate, use this time to introspect and reflect. Use this time to figure out what has gone so wrong and then find the courage to fix it.”

The Rebbe adds in one more piece. The laws of the Eved Ivri, are not just about the other – they are about each of us. Each of us messes up. We each make mistakes and sometimes those mistakes land us in significant trouble and life difficulty. When we feel we have stolen our potential and squandered it in a variety of fruitless initiatives and bad choices it is easy to give up.  But then we remind ourselves: the thief is sold and rehabilitates himself – we have the ability to do the same. There is an important point to remember: “Sheysh shanim ya’avod, u’ba’shviis yetzei l’chofshi, for six years you must work on the on the seventh you can go free.”  It can take a long time to turn yourself and your life around. It can take a long time to rehabilitate and rejuvenate. But if we are willing to put in the work – our 7th year will come. We can change, we can improve, we can become someone better.

The laws of the Eved Ivri, the Hebrew servant teach us these two valuable lessons; never stop believing in the other, never stop believing in yourself. No matter how badly my fellow messes up, he is never beyond salvation. No matter how severe our mistakes may be, if we work hard, we can rehabilitate and rejuvenate. God chooses to place the law of Eved Ivri first, for it create the foundational understanding for how we view the other and how we view ourselves.

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Parsha Perspectives: Good is Great (Yisro)

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Originally published Parshas Yisro 5780.

“It came about on the next day that Moses sat down to judge the people, and the people stood before Moses from the morning until the evening. When Moses’ father in law saw what he was doing to the people, he said, “What is this thing that you are doing to the people? Why do you sit by yourself, while all the people stand before you from morning till evening?” Moses said to his father in law, “For the people come to me to seek God. If any of them has a case, he comes to me, and I judge between a man and his neighbor, and I make known the statutes of God and His teachings.” Moses’ father in law said to him, “The thing you are doing is not good. You will surely wear yourself out both you and these people who are with you for the matter is too heavy for you; you cannot do it alone. Now listen to me. I will advise you, and may the Lord be with you. [You] represent the people before God, and you shall bring the matters to God (Exodus 13-19).”

Yisro made the journey from Midian to come and join the Jewish people as they traveled through the desert to the Promised Land. The reunion was emotional. Moshe greeted his esteemed father in law and was reunited with Tzipora and their sons. But by the next morning it was back to business as usual for the Jewish leader. He sat in judgement, resolving the disputes and disagreements of the nation. Yisro saw this “one-man show” and told Moshe that such a system was unsustainable, “you can’t do it alone.”  Yisro advised Moshe to set up a court system. Moshe accepted the mussar and the suggestion.

But why did it take Yisro’s observations and suggestions to address this issue? The problem was obvious. One man (even Moshe Rabbeinu) can’t serve as the sole judge for an entire nation. The solution was seemingly straightforward and obvious; create a judicial framework. Why didn’t Moshe realize this idea on his own? Why was Yisro’ s prodding necessary to bring the Judaic judicial framework into existence?

The Lubavitcher Rebbe (Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, 1902-1994) provides an incredible insight. Moshe received the Torah with incredible understanding and spiritual luminescence. This was a result of having it transmitted directly from God to him. This level of clarity is called re’iah (literally –  sight). Moshe understood the Torah with the clarity of someone who had seen something with his own eyes. The Jewish people didn’t receive the communication directly from God, instead they chose to receive the Torah from Moshe (after the first two commandments). Their understanding was through the mechanism of shmiah(listening or hearing). Moshe wanted to convey the Torah to the people with the clarity with which he received it. His experience was the pinnacle of spiritual perfection and he wanted to share this experience with the people by adjudicating their cases, settling their disputes and teaching them through the prism of his clarity. He wanted it to be perfect. Yisro tells him, “my beloved son-in-law, your intentions are so good and pure. But if it is perfection you seek, navol tibol gam ata gam ha’am ha’zeh (you will surely wear yourself out both you and these people who are with you). The goal can’t be perfection, the goal must be ’good.’”  As the French author Voltaire wrote, “The perfect is the enemy of the good.” Perfection is rarely achievable and if by some miracle it is achieved, it cannot be sustained. “Moshe, you will ruin yourself and the people if you pursue the ‘perfect.’” 

Yisro’s judicial framework idea was not new and novel to Moshe. Moshe must have thought about it many times. But in Moshe’s mind, the idea of a judiciary framework that was “good” but not “perfect” was not acceptable. Yisro came along and explained – the pursuit of perfect will run you and the nation into the ground.

Who is correct? Do we pursue “perfection” or “good?” At the end of the day, Moshe accepted Yisro’s advice and established a system of judges and courts. This “dispute” is something we struggle with each and every day. We all want perfect. We want a perfect marriage; we want perfect children and we want a perfect career. We want our friends to do exactly what we need when we need it and for life to follow our predetermined, chartered course. And when desires and aspiration don’t materialize perfectly, we become frustrated and upset. The goal should never be perfection. The goal is great (or even good depending on circumstance). If I expect a perfect marriage – that requires a perfect spouse.  There is no human being who can deliver in that way. If we expect perfect children, we are setting them up for failure. If we wait to take advantage of life’s opportunities until the perfect one arrives, we will miss out on all the great opportunities which present themselves every single day. If we expect perfect results from ourselves, we become disillusioned, aggravated and ultimately, give up.

Perfection is alluring but not realistic. We must resist the temptation of perfection and embrace the good, great and excellent. Moshe was fortunate to have a Yisro to whisper in his ear. We are privileged to have a Torah which lights our way. May we find the strength to see the goodness in our loved ones, the greatness in our opportunities and the beauty in ourselves.

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Parsha Perspectives: Heavy Handed (Beshalach)

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“Amalek came and fought with Israel in Rephidim. So, Moses said to Joshua, Pick men for us, and go out and fight against Amalek. Tomorrow I will stand on top of the hill with the staff of God in my hand. Joshua did as Moses had told him, to fight against Amalek; and Moses, Aaron, and Hur ascended to the top of the hill. It came to pass that when Moses would raise his hand, Israel would prevail, and when he would lay down his hand, Amalek would prevail. Now Moses’ hands were heavy; so, they took a stone and placed it under him, and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur supported his hands, one from this [side], and one from that [side]; so, he was with his hands in faith until sunset. Joshua weakened Amalek and his people with the edge of the sword (Shemos 17:8-13).” 

Amalek attacked us without cause or reason. Moshe tasked Yehoshua with organizing and leading the army into battle. As Yehoshua mobilized the fighting force, Moshe ascended the mountain and raised his hands in supplicatory prayer. The Torah then says, “Now Moshe’s hands were heavy.” But what does this mean? Of course, the literal meaning is obvious, yet it is strange that something so “mundane” would appear in the midst of this miraculous story. The fledging Jewish nation was not comprised of warriors; it was Divine intervention which saved the day. Couldn’t God have given Moshe a bit more strength? What is the Torah trying to teach us? Rashi comments, “Since he had been lax in [the performance of] the commandment [of warring against Amalek] and had appointed someone else in his stead, his hands became heavy.” Instead of answering our question, Rashi compounds it; why didn’t Moshe lead the army himself? Why did Moshe delegate this responsibility to Yehoshua?

The Lubavitcher Rebbe zt’l provided an incredible insight. Moshe’s initial inclination was, in fact, to lead the army himself, but he then questioned this approach. As we will learn a bit later in the Torah, God created age restrictions for army service. No man younger than 20 or older than 60 could serve in the standing army of the Jewish nation. Moshe Rabbeinu was 80 years old, and therefore, decided to hand over this military responsibility to Yehoshua. The problem, explains the Rebbe, is that when one sees a Jew in need, when one sees our nation in crisis, he must put his personal cheshbonos (calculations and ideas) on the side, roll up his sleeves, and spring into action. Although Moshe’s logic was sound, God didn’t want logic. He wanted quick and decisive action on behalf of the nation. He didn’t want Moshe to delegate; He wanted Moshe to act. God conveyed this message to Moshe through the heaviness of his hands. You were heavy or slow to spring into action while your nation was in crisis. You should not have delegated this to Yehoshua; you should have led the charge yourself.

The Rebbe’s profound insight yields two very important lessons. Lesson #1: When you see a Jew in need, don’t think – act. When there is a crisis, we can get caught in the planning of the response when, in fact, we need to mobilize and help. When you see someone suffering, don’t think about the best person to help, roll up your sleeves and do something. When you see something that is broken, don’t wait for the most capable person to fix it, try to make a difference right here and now. Lesson #2: Don’t spend your entire life planning. There is a time to plan and a time to act. Too often in life, we put all our energy into planning and thinking. We have the 6-month plan, the 2-year plan, and the 3-decade plan. Our plans are polished, well-thought-out, and fully detailed. There is only one problem; we keep the plans neatly filed on our desk – but we never execute, and we fail to engage in dynamic activity. There are times in life when one must stop planning and thinking and start doing and acting. This does not mean that we should not plan and think ahead. We must be forward-thinking people who are able to see beyond our current circumstances. We must be careful to avoid overthinking things to the point of inactivity.  Thinking and planning are important – but so is doing.

Yehoshua led the army to victory (with God’s help), but the Torah tells us, it should have been Moshe. We too at times get a bit “heavy,” laden with planning and personal calculations. There is a time to delegate and a time to plan, but we must always be ready to seize the opportunities, to act, perform, and make a difference.

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Parsha Perspectives: Cathartic Clothing (Bo)

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It was so close; freedom was in the air. After 210 years of slavery and servitude, the Jewish people stood on the threshold of emancipation, ready to embrace their national destiny. God reminded Moshe of the promise made to Avraham during the Bris Beyn Ha’Bisarim (the Covenant of the Pieces) that the nation would emerge from Egypt with great wealth. God instructed Moshe: “Please, speak into the ears of the people, and let them request, each man from his friend and each woman from her friend, silver vessels and golden vessels (Shemos 11:2).”  Moshe complied, and the Torah tells us, “And the children of Israel did according to Moses’ order, and they borrowed/requested (va’yishalu) from the Egyptians silver objects, golden objects, and garments. The Lord gave the people favor in the eyes of the Egyptians, and they gave them, and they emptied out Egypt (Exodus 12:35-36).”

Why does the Torah use the word “va’yishalu, request”? Why didn’t the Jews demand the gold and silver which they were owed as back-pay for 210 years of servitude?

Furthermore, it is interesting to note that Moshe commanded them regarding silver and gold, and yet when they approached the Egyptians, the people asked for clothing (smalot) as well. Rabbeinu Bachya (Rabbi Bachya ben Asher, Spanish Rabbi 1255-1340) makes a fascinating statement: These (articles of clothing) meant more to them than the silver and the gold, and [thus] whatever is mentioned later in the verse is more esteemed – gold is more important than silver, and clothing is more important than gold.

What is the significance of this clothing? Why would it be more valuable than silver and gold?

The Chizkuni (Rabbi Chizkiyah ben Manoach, a 13th century French rabbi) links the “gifts” received by Jewish slaves (from their Egyptian master) to the gifts that a Jewish master must give his servant upon emancipation.

“They (the Jewish people) will not go out empty-handed, because they (the Egyptians) will provide them with 3 types (of gifts); gold, silver and clothing – in order to fulfill (the promise that God made to Avraham) “and afterwards they will leave with vast possessions.” This is comparable to the provisions that one must give his servants (from sheep, granary and wine-press).”

In reference to the obligation of ha’anaka (providing for one’s servant upon emancipation), the Torah states:

If your brother, a Hebrew man, or a Hebrew woman, is sold to you, he shall serve you for six years, and in the seventh year you shall send him forth free from you. And when you send him forth free from you, you shall not send him forth empty-handed. You shall surely provide him from your flock, from your threshing floor, and from your vat, you shall give him from what the Lord, your God, has blessed you (Devorim 15:12-14).”

If we examine the word ha’anaka, we find that it shares a root with two other words: anak (giant) and yanak (to nurse). Perhaps, the Torah is trying to convey to us an important sensitivity toward the emancipated slave. When a person is an eved (servant/slave), it is easy to lose his or her sense of humanity and begin to feel like an object. Part of the emancipation process is to “re-humanize” the servant, to make him feel normal once again. Ha’anek taanik lo, you must mother him, nurture him, nurse him back to emotional health, help restore his “person-hood”, make him feel anak (giant, like he is something special). We begin this process on a most basic level by giving him possessions. By allowing him to own goods, we endow the former servant with a sense of humanity and autonomy in this new chapter of his life.

Perhaps, with this understanding, we can appreciate all that is occurring during these last few hours in Egypt. As the Jewish people are preparing to leave the land of their oppression, there is one thing they still need from their former masters – a recognition and validation of their humanity. The Jewish slave looked at his Egyptian master and said, “For the last 210 years you treated me like chattel – you broke my body with unending labor, you murdered my children, and you crushed my spirit. Now I am free, but there is something I need from you. Show me that you understand that I am a fellow human-being.  Express to me your recognition that I am a person just like you. Acknowledge and validate my humanity.”

Va’yishalu, they asked for the silver and gold; the Jews did not demand the Egyptians turn over these possessions. The Jew said, “I will ask nicely, I will request, no demands – I am respecting you as a human being, and I want to see if that feeling is reciprocal.”  Herein lies the test; how will the Egyptian respond to his former servant? Will he throw the gold and silver at the Jew and slam the door, or will there be some element of humane reciprocity? Will the Egyptians recognize and validate the humanity of their former slaves? The Torah states: “The Lord gave the people favor in the eyes of the Egyptians, and they gave them, and they emptied out Egypt (Exodus 12:37).”

The Kli Yakar (Rabbi Shlomo Ephraim ben Aaron Luntschitz, Lenczyk, Poland 1540- 1619) comments:

And that which it says, “And they gave them” – this means that the Egyptians requested that they (the Jewish people) accept more and more gifts – to such a degree did the Jews find favor in the eyes of the Egyptians.”

The Jewish people “asked”, and the Egyptians responded, “please take.” The Egyptians responded to them as “people”. Their humanity that had been ignored for 210 years was finally recognized and validated.

Building on this idea, we can now appreciate the meaning of the request for clothing. Clothing serves a dual role. Clothing endows the wearer with a positive self-image. Clothing can help me feel good about myself. Clothing also allows others to form an initial positive impression about me.

It was for these two reasons that the clothing played a pivotal role. It was this clothing that allowed the people to begin to think differently about themselves. Although they were objectively free, they still had to “feel free.” By donning the clothing of “free-men”, they were able to experience freedom even before actually leaving Egypt. Furthermore, by wearing the clothing of freedom, they were able to project this emancipatory image to their fellow Jews, former masters, and all humanity.

The accumulation of wealth upon leaving Egypt was more than just the fulfillment of the Abrahamitic promise. It was a necessary step in the emotional healing and re-humanization of a people. After over two centuries of persecution and pain, God allowed us to re-acquire our identity as human beings, don the physical and emotional clothing of freedom, and begin the journey toward our destiny. But this message is not only historically important, it has tremendous contemporary relevance as well. Our ancestors needed validation of their humanity from their former oppressors. God understood that this would help catapult the creation of a national identity. As important as validation from others may be, we cannot hinge our happiness and self-worth on how others view us. We must learn to feel free, even if others do not share the same opinion. We must learn to see the good within ourselves, even if others cannot. Sometimes, even those closest to us cannot always see the beauty we possess. We must find the strength to wear the clothing of self-confidence and walk toward our personal promised land.

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Parsha Perspectives: Mending the Torn Fabric (Vaeyra)

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We had all hoped that 2021 would be different. We hoped that the violence and discord which was so prominent last year would not follow us into this new one. But alas, infighting has reared its ugly head in the first weeks of this new year. It is over a week since the violent protest in our nation’s capital, and it still seems surreal. The images, the violence seem like scenes from a distant land. But yet, it was here, just an hour away. There has been much commentary and blame. But is there something to be learned?  Is there a lesson? Or is this simply another dark chapter for our great nation? I would like to share some thoughts and insights as I grapple with these events.

Pharaoh was bent on destroying the Jewish people.

And Pharaoh commanded all his people, saying, “Every son who is born you shall cast into the Nile, and every daughter you shall allow to live (Exodus 1:22).”

I have often wondered – how can this happen? How can an advanced culture like the Egyptians take innocent babies and cast them into the Nile? The answer is tragically simple – dehumanization. The moment you can convince a nation that the Jew is not a person is the moment that anything becomes possible. Pharaoh had convinced his people that the Jew was a threat, would consume all of the wealth, collude with Egypt’s enemies, and lead an insurgency from within. He transformed us into beasts of burden – he made us into animals. In that moment, it was no longer human children being thrown into the Nile. We were animals, property who could be discarded with little regard. Throughout the generations this very same strategy has been employed. How did the Nazis murder 6,000,000 with gas, ovens, torture, and mass executions? By portraying the Jew as sub-human. When the Jew is dehumanized – anything is possible.

When I look around at our greater society, I am truly saddened by what I perceive as the dehumanization of the “other.” The other can be someone who does not agree with my political views.  The other can be someone who does not share my opinions on race and religion. We talk about each other as fakes, thieves and deplorables (and many other names not fit for print).  How did this happen?  When did we lose our way? I believe the answer is quite simple – we have forgotten how to be nice.

This is not just in the political sphere. I have seen a difference in many daily interactions as well.  Perhaps, people are more on edge with the pandemic and political turmoil, but I have found that people are faster to anger, accuse and attack in a heightened state of emotional volatility. Many of us have forgotten how to express our opinions, concerns, and points of view with respect.

There is no question that there is a trickle-down effect. President Trump has made name calling and public humiliation of others common place and acceptable. But let us be honest; everyone is doing it.  The President must own the role his words and actions played in the violence which occurred.  Unfortunately, as leader of the free world, the President has not modeled dignity, civility, tolerance, acceptance, and the ability to be nice. The reality is that we have not tried to seek out these attributes and cultivate them within ourselves either.

There is a real danger of dehumanization. When you dehumanize those who disagree with you, you can hit a police officer in the head with a fire extinguisher and end a precious life for absolutely no reason.  When you dehumanize someone, you can turn on those who are charged to protect you. But it is not only the events of last week to which I refer.  When we look at what happened in Portland, in New York City and at numerous other protests which turned violent and unruly, we have seen people turning on each other with sheer hatred. This is not our way.

If there is one thing I know, it is that there will be people who will be upset with my words. Some will say that I am not condemning President Trump’s actions in harsh enough terms. Some will say that I am simply lapping up what the media is feeding me. The time has come to stop assigning blame and for each of us to take responsibility to fix our great nation.

So, what we can do?  I read an incredible opinion piece in the Wall Street Journal this past week. Mr. Chip Roy, a Republican, represents Texas’ 21st Congressional District and wrote a column titled, “Why I’m Taking a Social-Media Sabbatical.”

I’m suspending indefinitely my use of Twitter, Facebook, and other social media. I’m doing so not to make a political statement, but in the hope that America can return to kitchen tables, churches, taverns, coffee shops, dance halls (it’s a Texas thing)—whatever it takes to look others in the eye and rebuild our communities and humanity … While social media has proved a useful vehicle for sharing information quickly, I have concluded that it does more harm than good to individuals and society alike. It tempts us to be reactive and feeds the worst of our human tendency to respond in anger rather than to stop and think before communicating. The result is more verbal combat and less deliberative thought—all with language we often wouldn’t use while looking someone in the eye. I have been guilty of this recently, and I haven’t always been proud of my language …  Of all God’s earthly creations, man is the only one with rational speech, but we used to have a better way to communicate with each other. Let us dine together. Let us look each other in the eye. Let us sit down and talk again. Then, let us unite again as Americans.

Now I will admit, I am bit biased; I don’t have a Facebook or Twitter account. I know that all of these platforms can be and are used for such incredible good. But imagine if we took a break from the toxicity of social media and started working on repairing relationships. I know that for some, this ask sounds like being asked to give up a limb – but I truly believe that there is great wisdom in Mr. Roy’s suggestion.

Another suggestion.  The great sage Shammai is quoted in Pirkei Avos (Ethics of our Fathers 1:15):

“Shammai said … receive every person with a pleasant countenance.”

The attribution of this idea to Shammai is very strange. Throughout the Talmud, Shammai is known as the more austere, strong, and rigid personality while Hillel is known for his more gentle, kind, and serene approach. Rabbi Yisroel Meir Lau in his commentary explains that Shammai made this statement after realizing that his more rigid and sometimes caustic approach with people was flawed (see Shabbos 31a). You can’t accomplish much in this world if you can’t dialogue properly with the other. The great Chassidic master, Rav Yitzchak of Vorka (1779-1848) says, that the word “sever” which we translate as countenance (in the above-mentioned Mishna) can also be vocalized as “savar” which means to “hold an opinion.” The Rebbe explains that sometimes I may not like someone and perhaps, even for legitimate reasons, but when we encounter one another, the other should never feel my disdain. The Mishna teaches us, “receive every person in a way which makes him feel accepted and respected by you.”  Sometimes, you have to use your poker-face to live in harmony with the other. The purists amongst might say that is disingenuous, but as I get older, I have begun to realize, the world has no room for purists. We live in complicated times, and our country has grown ever more turbulent – the time has come to be nice. We must work on this each and every day. Each day we encounter situations which cause us to become angry. How do we deal with our anger? Do we unleash upon the other who is evoking these feelings within us? Do we lash out with put-downs, insults, and personal attacks? When we perceive that an injustice has taken place, do we use this as an excuse to unleash pent up animalistic tendencies which manifest in violence, looting, and many others forms of egregious behavior? We are better than this. We have a legal system, and if you have a grievance, there is a mechanism to address it. We have the right to demonstrate and make our voices heard. But the moment you lift your hand against your brother or sister is the moment you lose your credibility, is the moment you no longer stand for a cause, is the moment you become an animal looking for prey.

I know that taking a social-media sabbatical and actively working to be nice are not the sole solutions for our country’s issues. But sometimes we look for big solutions to solve big problems, when in fact, we have to take small steps to make some progress. It would be wonderful to think that when President-Elect Biden takes the reigns next week, a wave of civility and comradery will sweep over our great nation – but we cannot engage in self-delusion. I pray that President-Elect Biden has the wisdom and courage to do what is right for this nation and all its citizens. But no man, even the President of the United States, can affect change all alone. The fabric of our nation has been torn, but it is not beyond repair.  Let us do our small part and begin to create change.

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Parsha Perspectives: Extend Your Reach (Shemos)

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Republished from 5780

Servitude had begun. Our Egyptian hosts turned into our oppressors. Bondage and slavery had replaced civility and coexistence. Pharaoh decreed, “Kol ha’beyn ha’yilod ha’yiorah tashlichu’hu (Cast every baby boy into the river).” Yocheved hid her infant son for as long as she could. After three months, she could hide him no longer, and on that fateful day, she fashioned a basket and set him afloat in the Nile, saying goodbye to her son forever. Then something amazing occurred.

“Pharaoh’s daughter went down to bathe, to the Nile, and her maidens were walking along the Nile, and she saw the basket in the midst of the marsh, and she sent her maidservant, and she took it.” (Exodus 2:5)

Rashi explains the phrase “she sent her maidservant” can also be interpreted to mean “she outstretched her arm.” The Talmud explains that the daughter of Pharaoh extended her arm to grab the basket, a miracle occurred, and her arm extended beyond its normal reach.

The great Chassidic master, Rav Menachem Mendel of Kotzk (1787-1859) is perplexed by this Talmudic passage. Why would Pharaoh’s daughter stretch out her arm to grab something which was clearly out of reach? A person can easily gauge what is within their reach and it appears that the basket was a significant distance away (as evidenced by the fact that a miracle was needed). Why even try to grab it? The answer is quite profound. Sometimes in life you just have to try. You just have to extend your hand and attempt to grab your goals, dreams and aspirations. There are many things in life which look “too far away.” There are many initiatives, ideas, and finish lines which look out of reach. This is where our relationship with God comes in. God whispers in our ear, “Stretch out your hand, put in the effort, push yourself as hard as you can, and just when you think your reach has ended, I will extend your grasp a bit more. Where your human limitations begin is where I will partner with you and extend your reach.” The daughter of Pharaoh did not know how she would reach the basket, but she knew she had to try.

Too many times in life we look at an aspiration or goal and tell ourselves, “it’s too far, it’s out of my reach, no way I can accomplish this feat, it simply looks impossible.” The truth is, anything that is comfortably within reach is usually not worth having. The very things you have to stretch and exert for are the things which infuse meaning into life. Our life’s mandate and mission is to dream beautiful dreams and stretch as far as we can to bring them to fruition. If the dream is truly holy and important then God will extend our reach and help us actualize our aspirations.

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Parsha Perspectives: An Everlasting Ending (Vayechi)

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This week is an end. This Shabbos marks the end of Sefer Bereishis, and this past Thursday marked the end of 2020. It has been a most turbulent year. A pandemic, raucous presidential election, and racial tensions are just some of the major issues which have made this year challenging and overwhelming. It comes as no surprise that many feel relieved that 2020 is coming to an end; January 1, 2021 can only pave the way for something better and brighter. But as Jews, we look at “endings” a bit differently.  When we conclude a Book of the Torah (Chumash), we recite the words, Chazak Chazak V’Nischazeyk, Be Strong, Be Strong and let us be strengthened. We understand that “endings” are an incredible opportunity to take stock and evaluate the past while simultaneously planning for the future. An “ending” allows me to learn from the past, from both my achievements and mistakes, and do better going forward.

This week’s Parsha is not only the conclusion of the book of Bereishis but also the end of the story of the Patriarchs, Matriarchs, and their children. The story ends with the death of Yosef.

And Joseph died at the age of one hundred ten years, and they embalmed him, and he was placed into the coffin in Egypt (Genesis 50:26).

The Tosafists in their commentary explain, “Misaymim B’Tov, we conclude (a Book of the Torah) with good (some piece of positive or upbeat information).  But what is the “good” in this conclusion?  Yosef died and with his death, Egyptian persecution and enslavement begins.

The great Chassidic master, Rav Tzvi Elimelech Shapira of Dinov (1783-1841), in his sefer Bnai Yissoschar, provides an incredible explanation.

“… On the caskets of kings, they would inscribe the royal name of the deceased monarch. However, on Yosef’s casket they did not write Tzafnas PaNeyach (his Egyptian name), rather, they inscribed the name Yosef …”

The Rebbe is teaching us a profound lesson. Yosef was known by many names. He was a son, a brother, Hebrew, slave, adviser, servant, husband, father, and viceroy.  But at the end of his life, the name inscribed on his casket was Yosef. His many names represented the many identities he had to assume at different times. Yosef had to change and evolve. He never intended to serve a gentile master, but when the circumstances called for it – he did it. He never intended to be an Egyptian king – but when he was needed, he rose to the occasion. He never thought he would be sold like a piece of property, but when it happened, he accepted and navigated this new reality. But after all that happened, he reclaimed his primary identity, Yosef. After all that occurred, he found the ability to be a simple Jew in a complex world. At the end of the day, he remained a man committed to growth and self-actualization in every situation.

Our circumstances are not as turbulent as Yosef’s – but life is life. Things happen, and we change. At times we change because of tragedy and adversity, and at times we evolve because of our life circumstances and surroundings. These changes can be positive and conducive to growth and accomplishment, or they can represent the loss of certain positive qualities and attributes I once possessed but have now lost along the journey of life. If the changes are positive, I must reinforce them, but if I realize that I have lost vital parts of self, I must figure out how to reclaim them.

Perhaps, this is our avoda (lifework) at this end of 2020 and Sefer Bereishis.  Although it is overused, it is still true. We have lived through unprecedented times, and we have all changed in some way.  The only question is – are the changes good or bad? Perhaps, over these last 9 months, we have discovered incredible strengths and abilities we never knew we possessed.  Perhaps, I have created a stronger bond with my family and have come to appreciate my home life like never before. Perhaps, I have figured out how to be comfortable being alone and have used my time to introspect and think. Or perhaps, I have been riddled with stress. Perhaps, as a result of pandemic and politics, I find my relationships and ability to deal with others strained.  Perhaps, I lost my rhythm of learning and davening and find myself spiritually listless. We must end the year and Sefer Bereishis with “tov, good.”  Let us identify the positive steps and strides and bring them with us into this new chapter. Let us take these newly discovered strengths and utilize them to create new realities. And if we have lost valuable pieces of self – let us reclaim them. What have I lost? And where did I lose it?  Yosef lost and reclaimed, and now, we can do the same.

Chazak Chazak V’Nischazeyk.

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Parsha Perspectives: An Unnecessary Kiss (Vayeshev/Shabbos Chanukah)

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Every Shabbos is special, but this coming Shabbos will have the extra dimension and radiance of Chanukah holiness.  We have entered the 8 days of beautiful illumination, inspiration, and rededication. It is on this Yom Tov of Chanukah that we remember our brave ancestors, who after defeating the Syrian Greeks, rededicated the Temple, lit the spark of Jewish rejuvenation, and breathed new life into our collective soul.

There are two parts of our Chanukah celebration. We commemorate and celebrate the military victory.  “Masarta Giborim B’Yad Chalashim, You delivered the strong into the hands of the weak;” a small army of Kohanim (priests) defeated the mighty Greek army. We celebrate the miracle of the pach shemen, the small cruse of oil which lasted for eight days. Interestingly, the military victory receives almost no attention (aside from a mention in Shmona Esrei and Birkas Hamazon, Grace after Meals). The miracle of the oil takes center stage and informs the way we celebrate this holiday. How are we to understand the emphasis on the oil? Why does the pach shemen become the dominant point of focus during these eight sacred days?

Perhaps we can answer this question and gain new insight on Chanukah from this week’s Parsha. The Parsha begins with Yosef sharing his dreams with his brothers. These dreams, which prophetically foreshadowed Yosef’s ascent to spiritual and material greatness, infuriated the brothers. Their anger and animosity towards Yosef festered until they stripped him of his clothing, threw him into a pit, and sold him to an Ishmaelite caravan. The Torah records a peculiar piece of information:

“And they sat down to eat a meal, and they lifted their eyes and saw, and behold, a caravan of Ishmaelites was coming from Gilead, and their camels were carrying spices, balm, and lotus, going to take [it] down to Egypt (Genesis 37:25).”

Rashi comments:

Why did Scripture publicize their burden (of the Ishmaelite caravan)? To let you know the reward of the righteous, for it is customary for Arabs to carry only naphtha and tar, whose odor is foul, but for this one (Joseph) it was arranged that they should be carrying spices, so that he should not be afflicted by a foul odor.

Rav Chaim Shmulevitz (Mirrer Rosh Yeshiva, 1902-1979) asks a simple question, “Do you think Yosef cared about the smell of the caravan? He was just stripped of his clothing, dignity, and family. Would the malodorous caravan have made things worse? Conversely, do we think the aromatic spices somehow lifted his spirits? Yosef must have felt broken and forsaken; no amount of sweet-smelling spices could repair the hurt visited upon him. If this is so, why bother with the miracle?”

To answer this question, we must understand that there are two types of categories of miracles. The first category is a miracle that is necessary to remedy an immediate need. For example, when the Jewish people left Egypt and found themselves stuck between the Red Sea and the pursuing Egyptian Army, they needed an immediate salvation to escape the clutches of the Egyptian oppressor. God split the sea in order to save His nation. The miracle was necessary and needed. However, there is another category of miracles, a non-utilitarian miracle. This second type of miracle is not performed to address or remedy an immediate need but rather to send a message. More specifically, this non-utilitarian miracle is performed by God as an expression of Divine love – it is in essence a kiss from above. God knows that in times of difficulty, we often feel alone and forsaken. God knows that when we suffer, the words of the Psalmist, “Eli Eli Lama Azavtani, My God, My God why have you left me,” dangle from our lips. In those moments when we feel estranged and unloved, God “kisses” us.  He provides a “neshika,” a kiss from above. It is through this kiss that He reminds us that we are not alone.  It is through this kiss that He reminds us that He is right by our side. It is through this kiss that He reminds us that although the road ahead may be dark and difficult, we need not traverse it alone. This kiss is the miraculous kiss of companionship and love.

Are we to understand that because Yosef was surrounded by some sweet-smelling herbs, suddenly his suffering and anxiety melted away? Could the aromatic scent take away the pain, heartbreak, and humiliation he was experiencing? Of course not. But in that moment when Yosef was sitting in the caravan like a piece of chattel, being led away from his homeland, his family, and his life, he felt alone.  It is true that the sweet smell would not mend Yosef’s broken heart. But this nuanced change, this slight aberration was a sign from above that God was with him in those heartbreaking moments. The sweet scent was to remind Yosef that he was not alone. The fragrant smell conveyed the message, “My beloved child, I am here with you. I know you are hurt; I know you are broken, but I am by your side now and forever.”  The pleasing aroma was a Divine kiss (neshika) of reassurance, love, and companionship.    Sometimes, the miracles God performs for us do not remedy the current crisis or remove the pain. They simply allow us to feel the Divine companionship and embrace it.

This is the essence of the Pach Shemen (cruse of oil) miracle. God did not need to do it. It was not “necessary.” We could have easily gotten by without it. If the oil would have run out after one day, we would have managed just fine. But this is exactly what makes this miracle so special. It was a “kiss” from God to us. It was a kiss that reflected God’s pride and admiration for the sacrifices we were willing to make. It was a kiss that reminded us that even when life is dark and difficult, we are never alone. It was a kiss that gave us the strength to weather the difficulties and vicissitudes of life.

Now we can understand why this miracle takes center stage on Chanukah.  The pach shemen is much more than a jug of oil. It is the kiss that has held us through the centuries; it is the kiss that dispels the darkness; it is the kiss that gives us the strength to get back up when life has knocked us down. We all encounter challenge and adversity, and at times we wonder why Hashem allows these things to happen.  We wonder why God has forsaken us and seems not to care. Yet, when we take a step back and look at all of the “Divine kisses” we have in life, we begin to realize that although there are many things we do not understand – we are never alone. These kisses are the ultimate testament to the presence of Hashem in our lives and the ultimate reassurance that even when we struggle – we never struggle alone.  The kiss of the pach shemen is the kiss that opens our eyes and provides the illumination to see all of the other Divine “kisses” we experience throughout life.

As we bask in the glow of the Menorah, let us remember the kisses of the past, appreciate the kisses of the present, and eagerly anticipate the Divine kisses of the near future.

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